Through the Walls
by song-of-a-nightowl
Summary: Dean kicks Sam out of their motel room, so Sam goes next door to Martha's room.


The overhead light in the motel room buzzed incessantly. The highway next to the motel still roared with traffic, even though it was getting pretty late. The drivers weren't the only ones still awake, though. Sam Winchester was diligently searching the internet for information regarding the latest job. He had been at it for hours, and he was getting kind of fed up with the lack of information. He paused to take a sip of coffee; if he wasn't doing research tonight, it would have undoubtedly been a beer in his hand instead.

As it was, Sam had been stuck with the research while Dean went to the bar. It was the same lousy deal that Sam got in every town. Martha had helped out earlier for a little while, but then she got a call from her sister and left the room. Sam hadn't seen her since. It wasn't that Sam minded doing research for a hunt; quite the contrary. But the lack of results, despite his best efforts, was leaving Sam incredibly frustrated.

Sam's cellphone went off: Dean. He answered it, wondering why his brother would be calling from the bar.

"Hey, Dean."

"Sammy, I'm gonna need you to clear out of there ASAP."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm a good brother and I want to spare you the trauma of seeing me go at it with a girl I just met."

"Dammit, Dean. Can't you go back to her place instead?"

"She's got a roommate who's the super religious type, and I guess she doesn't want Mother Teresa eavesdropping on our dirty doings. So you've got ten, fifteen minutes tops before we get there. You'd better be gone by then."

"Fine. See you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Sammy."

Sam hung up and tossed the phone aside. Of all the nights for Dean to kick him out of the room, he had to choose this one. Sam rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. Then he chugged the last of his coffee and tossed it into the trash can. He gathered his things, stuffing them hastily into his duffel bag. He briefly considered "accidentally" taking something of Dean's in retribution, but he really didn't have it in him to be angry enough for revenge.

Within minutes, Sam had everything packed. He flicked out the light and went next door to Martha's room, carrying his duffel bag in one arm and his laptop in the other. He set down the duffel bag to knock on Martha's door. Martha appeared, looking somewhat surprised.

"Sam," she said, "What's going on?"

"Dean's kicking me out of the room. Mind if I crash here tonight?"

"Of course, come in." Martha stood aside to let Sam in and closed the door behind him.

Martha's room was far tidier than Sam and Dean's. Her clothes were folded neatly in her suitcase, and neither weapons nor trash littered the room. She had made the bed after last night, whereas Dean just left his as an unbidden tangle of blankets.

Sam dropped his bag on the floor and placed his laptop on the table. He turned around to look at Martha and noticed that she was wearing a tank top and shorts. Sam realised that it was the first time he had ever seen Martha in her pajamas. She was usually very put together, and at the moment she looked as prim as ever.

"So why did Dean kick you out of the room?" asked Martha.

"He's bringing a girl back from the bar," said Sam with a grimace.

Martha reacted similarly. "So he just showed up and kicked you out?"

"No, he at least had the decency to call ahead."

"That was good of him."

"Yeah, it was really nice of him to notify me before he brought some random girl back to the motel room that we share," said Sam sarcastically. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

"You looked exhausted, Sam."

"I feel exhausted."

"Then take off your shoes and come lay down on the bed. You'll feel better when you're more comfortable."

Sam did as Martha bid. He tucked his shoes under the table, and he threw his jacket onto a chair. He happily reclined on Martha's bed, halfway between sitting and lying down. Martha laid next to him and smiled.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"Much better," said Sam.

"Good. You seemed a bit stressed," said Martha. She entwined her hand with Sam's. "What have you been up to?"

"I've been doing research all nightl. So far I've come up with nothing. It's infuriating."

"How about we go to the library tomorrow? Maybe we can find something useful there."

"Maybe, but then I would have to get out of bed."

Martha laughed. "You're really tired, aren't you?"

"Not tired. Just stressed."

"Anything I can do about that? I am a medical professional, you know."

"Maybe there's something you can do." Sam grinned. He knew exactly what Martha had in mind, and he decided to beat her to the punch. He shifted so that he was closer to Martha, and then he brought his lips to hers. She smelled vaguely of apples, and her skin felt so soft as Sam ran a hand along her arm.

One of Martha's hands drifted up into Sam's hair; she always did that. Sam loved the way she ran her fingers through his hair when they kissed almost as much as he loved the way she used her tongue. Presently, Sam pulled his lips away from Martha's and kissed along her jaw.

"Mmm, Sam," purred Martha.

Sam kissed down her neck, and she tilted her head back to give him better access. His nose brushed against her jaw. She tugged on his hair with one hand and dug her fingers into his back with the other. Sam brought his lips back up to Martha's. One of his hands slipped beneath her tank top, and he ran his fingers over the small of her back.

There came a slam against the wall behind them. Sam and Martha both jumped. They pulled apart and stared at the wall for a moment. There were more bumps, but none of them were as loud as the first one.

"The other side of that wall is…that's Dean, isn't it?" said Martha.

"Yeah." Sam's face scrunched up like he had smelled something sour.

"They sound…very energetic."

"Yeah."

The vague sound of giggles, and then moaning, floated through the walls. Sam suddenly found himself not in the mood to make out with Martha. The look on Martha's face told Sam that she felt the same way.

Martha grabbed the remote from the nightstand and turned on the television to drown out the sound. She flipped to some sitcom, and then she and Sam settled back into the pillows. Sam wrapped an arm around Martha's shoulders, and she rested her head somewhere between his shoulder and chest. They cuddled and watched television for a while. Eventually, Sam felt his eyelids grow heavy and his mind began to drift. He looked down and saw that Martha, too, was already half-asleep. He turned off the television. Thankfully, the noise next door had died down.

Sam quickly slipped into sleep. The bed was soft, and Martha was so warm. He slept peacefully, and the next thing he knew was the soft morning light peeking through the curtains. Martha stirred beside him.

"Morning," said Sam.

"Good morning," said Martha. She turned over so she was facing Sam, and then she gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Do you reckon Dean went out to get breakfast?"

"Not likely," said Sam.

"Well, I showered last night, so I can go get something while you take a shower," said Martha.

"Who bathes everyday?" Sam joked.

"Normal people do, Sam. I've been around you and Dean when you haven't showered, and it's worse than anything I ever smelled in a hospital."

"I guess we do get kind of smelly sometimes. And you probably don't want to be sharing a bed with someone who's covered in blood and sweat."

Martha paused and looked at Sam. She had an odd expression on her face. She asked, "Are you going to start staying in my bed now?"

"Do you want me to?" Sam was suddenly worried that Martha had meant this to be a one-time thing. His worries were quickly alleviated, though, when Martha smiled and kissed him again.

"Every night," she whispered.

Sam took a quick shower while Martha went to get the Impala's keys from Dean. By the time Sam got dressed and went into Dean's room next door, Martha was gone, as was Dean's one-night stand.

Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Hey man, thanks again for clearing out last night."

"Don't worry about it," said Sam.

"So you spend the night with Martha?"

"Yeah, where else would I have gone? The gas station?"

"I don't know. There were plenty of times I kicked you out before Martha started hunting with us, and you must have gone somewhere back then."

Sam shrugged. He casually looked over the weapons Dean had spread out on the bed.

"So, uh, anything interesting happen last night?" asked Dean.

"What do you mean?" said Sam.

"You know what I mean," said Dean, "You and Martha have had something going on for a while; it's about time you two hopped in the sack."

"It wasn't like that, Dean. We didn't do anything."

"Sure you didn't." Dean winked.

"No, really," insisted Sam, "Martha and I didn't have sex last night."

Dean ignored him. Sam decided to let it drop. Dean, gutter-brained as he was, would never believe that Sam and Martha hadn't had sex. As long as Dean didn't press the issue or get too invasive about it, Sam saw no harm in letting his brother think so.

Of course, Dean realised his mistake a few weeks later. Sam came into the motel room, and Dean decided to be very casual about it.

"Sam, you smell like sex."


End file.
